


The Horns of Freedom

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Prompted Works [9]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, i made up a bunch of stuff about ravager religion, if it can be called that, stakar likes the sound of his own voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 19:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Yondu sees a Ravager funeral and decides that his number one priority is to be honored in that way.Yondu Week Day Five: Blue, Quote, Death, Food, Stars





	The Horns of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Blue, Quote, Death, Food, Stars

It wasn’t meant to hurt this much.

Of course, Yondu had seen death before - it had been a part of his everyday life for as long as he could remember, for as long as he had been a slave - but it wasn’t meant to happen anymore. He almost hadn’t thought that it could happen to Ravagers.

He shifted in his seat, watching the remains of the fireworks blasting across the stars, head tipped slightly sideways. Everyone else had wandered off ages ago, back to doing their jobs or to sleep or eat - he still wasn’t entirely certain what the pirates did in their spare time - but Yondu remained, watching the swirls of color. There was something beautiful about it, something that stopped him from wandering off no matter how much time had passed.

> “What does it mean?” he had asked Stakar.
> 
> “Its the Colors,” Stakar had explained, barely paying attention to Yondu, too focused on the display in front of them.
> 
> _I figured as much_. Yondu had pulled his eyes away from the bright display. “Colors?”

Yondu had never much cared about the afterlife of his own people, why should he pray to their gods when they had all abandoned him? His Kree owners had always told him that when he died he would pass to their afterlife to continue to serve them. But the way Stakar had described the Horns of Freedom, patiently explaining the Colors and the Code - again, because he liked explaining it as much as Yondu liked listening - had made it sound perfect.

It was everything he had never known he needed.

> “The fireworks.” Stakar had finally turned his full attention to Yondu, who resisted the urge to gloat, even inwardly. As much as he liked having the captain’s full attention, he had felt a twinge of guilt at having taken it away from a dead man. “They’re called the Colors. They each represent a part of the code which we adhere to.” 

The fireworks were beginning to fade, along with the ashes of their fallen crewmate. Yondu was surprised to find a strange tightness in his chest, something he had never experienced before. He wondered if it was loss. He’s never been allowed to mourn the other fallen slaves, having feelings was a weakness and a privilege he had never afforded himself.

 _But_ , he reminded himself glumly. _You hardly knew him. You shouldn’t be this upset_.

That didn’t make the ache go away.

> Stakar had seemed delighted by the curiosity Yondu was showing in his religion. “When a Ravager dies,” he had explained, “we sent them off with displays of the Colors and sound the Horns of Freedom to guide them on to the afterworld.”
> 
> “What’s it like?”
> 
> A laugh. “Wouldn’t I love to know.” Stakar had paused, looked at Yondu’s crestfallen face, and added, “Peace.”
> 
> Yondu had gone silent after that, sitting perfectly still as the other Ravagers filed out past him.

The Colors were all gone now, and the horns had faded away, echoing into the darkness of space. Only Yondu remained, alone on the observation deck with his thoughts. _Peace_. He wasn’t even sure what peace was. It wasn’t a concept anyone had ever taken the time to explain to a battle slave. It wasn’t something he had ever needed to know.

But he wanted to.

For the first months he had been with the Ravagers, he had thought that this was what peace was. But when he had said as much to Stakar the other man had just laughed. “This ain’t peace, Yondu,” he had said. “Only the delusional and the dead get peace.”

When he had said dead he had made it sound like a bad thing, and Yondu had dropped the subject. But now Yondu found himself wondering if it was something else. Something he wanted as much as he wanted the rows of trinkets lined up beside his bed. Something he wanted even more perhaps.

He was pulled from his thoughts by someone clearing their throat and turned to see Stakar leaned against the doorframe. “It’s almost night cycle.”

Oh. Right. Yondu couldn’t manage to keep track of time in space. He hadn’t needed to keep track of time before - like everything else, it was decided by the slavers - and it was far easier just to keep going until he was tired and then crash in a corner somewhere and sleep for an hour or two.

But like most of his habits, Stakar hadn’t seemed to think that one was “healthy.” He also didn’t think it was healthy that Yondu ate as little as he did, despite the Centuaran’s insistence that he ate as much as he needed.

“Suppertime,” Stakar added.

Yondu nodded, turning back to glance at the bluish expanse of space as he stood, dragging his still too big leathers around himself. “I’m coming captain.”

Stakar still didn’t move, and Yondu didn’t think he liked how closely he was being watched. He stared back, mimicking Stakar’s serious face and causing the older man to let out a chuckle.

“Captain?” he asked as they walked down the hall, side by side. Stakar grunted the only sign that he had heard what he was saying. Yondu took that as permission to continue. “When I die, do I gotta go to the Centuaran afterlife?”

Stakar raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe in their - uh - do they have gods?” He had learned the hard way that Yondu preferred to think of himself as separate from the Centuarian people. Stakar's offer to return Yondu to 'your' people had ended with a near brawl. 

“I don’t got any. They ain’t done nuttin for me.”

“Then I suppose not.” Stakar still wasn't looking at him, and although Yondu liked when he had Stakar's full attention, he had discovered that if Stakar wasn't paying attention to where he was going he had a tendency to run into people or things, too distracted by whatever was in his head.

“The Kree told us that when we died we went on to serve them in their afterlife.”

Stakar stopped, turning to look at him sharply. “Then why did you ask me to kill you when we first met?”

Yondu wouldn’t meet his eyes, something Stakar had been attempting to teach him to do with mild success for months now. “I thought it were worth a shot.”

Stakar shook his head, grumbling obscenities under his breath. “I’m not letting you go there, you hear that Undonta?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. I don’t wanna hear about that anymore then. You forget everything those jackasses told you.” Stakar turned on his heel sharply, stomping off down the hallway, still clearly pissed.

Yondu had finally begun to accept that the anger was directed at the Kree slavers, not him, but that didn’t make hurrying after him any easier. “One mor’ thing?”

Another grunt.

“When I die, can I hear the Horns of Freedom?” Yondu couldn’t think of anything else he had ever wanted as badly as he wanted that.

Stakar stopped again, looking over his shoulder with poorly disguised fondness in his eyes. “You’re one of us now, Yondu. Where we go, you go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr for more nonsense: [SunflowerSupremes](https://sunflowersupremes.tumblr.com/).


End file.
